A Brother's Revenge
by Natalie Hudson
Summary: Briseis leaves for Troy with Achilles, but will they find the life of peace that they seek?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hey everyone, this is my first story on fanfiction.net, hope you enjoy what I have so far. Reviews are more than welcomed!

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 1

Andromache cowered in a corner, she shook visibly as quiet sobs racked her body, yet no tears would come. Her babe clutched tightly against her bosom as though she could not bear to lose another loved one. Her husband was going to be killed, she dreamt of it last night, and she could still see the eerie dream every time she closed her eyes. The dint of metal against metal as the clash of swords rang through the air. The savage cry of the Greek brute, calling her husband to his death still echoed in her ears.

"Hector!...Hector!...Hector!"

Each cry drew her beloved Hector closer to his death, and with each cry his name grew more indefinable. The brute called clearly, pronouncing the two syllables so that they bounced up the walls of Troy and into her ears. Somehow, the calling has grown meaningless, just a sound, an animal's call.

The doors to Troy opened slowly, grinding their ancient wood against the sandy ground. One last call echoes through the air.

"Hector!"

The tears spilled from her eyes. Her husband was going to die.

---

Paris, soon to be the sole heir of the Trojan throne, gripped the low stone wall of the castle. His knuckles are white from the exertion, his teeth clenched, his eyes wide, he never wanted to be king and didn't want it now. He wished the sound of the fighting below would cease. From where he was watching, they were but two tiny figures, dressed in black armour, like ants that run upon the ground.

How he wanted to help his brother, as Hector had helped him so many a times. His mind raced back to his combat with Menelaus, king of Sparta, husband of Helen, his lover. His shameful defeat only amplified by his sordid retreat. His brother had been there for him then, as he clung to Hector's leg, silently begging his older brother to protect him as of old.

"He is my brother," Hector had said, and that had been all. No further explanation was required. Hector's love for his brother had sent him to his death.

The sounds changed, a dull sound of metal ripping the armour, the screech of the impact muffled by the impaling of flesh - his brother's flesh, then followed by a deathly silence. Paris suddenly regretted the wish that he had made just moments before.  
  
'Leave, murderer, leave!' Paris thought, 'You have what you sought. My beloved brother is dead.' But his thoughts were unanswered as the Greek savage took a long, thick rope from his chariot and tied it to the dead man's feet. He looked up defiantly at the Trojan royalties seated safely high above as his horses charged through the land dragging their great prince behind.

For the first time in his life, Paris looked into Achilles' eyes, and though it was a great distant away, he knew what he must do. His fate be done, by his hand, Achilles must die.

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I know that this is really short, I promise longer chapters in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry it's been so long since my previous update, I hope the wait was worthwhile. Big thanx to Arien for reviewing! I would hug you if I could! Again, reviews are always welcomed.

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 2

Helen watched as her husband pace the room, his face wore an expression that she had never seen on him before. It was not of his character to grow so solemn.

Dinner in the Trojan palace was magnificent as always, yet tonight, it lay upon the table untouched. No one had the mind to eat when their great prince had been brutally slaughtered and inhospitably dragged away.

"Paris, come to bed," Helen called out.

But Paris was too deeply involved in his own thoughts to have heard her, and if he had heard her, he was in no mood to comply to a woman's bidding.

"Paris, the moon is high, my love, it is late. Will you not extinguish the candles and come to bed?"

"My beloved brother, Hector, is dead! How can I sleep knowing that I will awake tomorrow morning when he will never see the light of another glorious day lit by Apollo's brilliant rays? How can I breathe knowing that Hector's chest would never rise again, that he would never feel Aeolus' breath stir his hair and brush his face?"

"My lord!" Helen rushes to his side. "You must let Morpheus restore your weary mind. I see that you are faint from lack of food and drink."

"Food and drink?" Paris laughed a strange, strangled laugh. "Why should I enjoy the pleasures of food and drink, the subsistence of life, when my own selfish folly led to the death of my beloved brother?"

"Folly, Paris? If you love me, my lord, you will come to bed and speak of this no more tonight."

He finally turns to look at her, but his eyes are hard and cold. "Ah, beautiful, beautiful Helen. The most beautiful woman of this world who leaves even the goddesses envious and the gods in awe. My beautiful Helen, my beautiful wife," he draws his sword from its scabbard, and in a flash it is at her throat. "I love you so much that I lost my brother."

Helen looked into his eyes and grew fearful. She did not recognize the man behind those eyes. It was not the man she loved, it was not Paris, but an angry stranger.

"My love, be not haste, you act upon the madness which grief brings."

Paris kept his hard gaze on her. This was the woman who had led to his brother's ultimate death. This was the woman who had induced the Greeks and Spartans to fall upon Troy. He had sacrificed his countrymen, his honour, and his brother all because he loved her. How can love, so simple and wonderful a word, bring about so much hate?

He turned around, retrieved his bow and arrows and strode out of the room, leaving behind a tearful and crumpled Helen.

---

At first, his anger blinded him, and his aim was inaccurate, hitting anything but the straw doll that acted as his target. He still remembered his brother's last touch, soft and tender for such a strong warrior, and his last words which rang sharply in his mind.

"Make me prouder than I am of you now, Paris, my beloved younger brother."

Hector's embrace was brief, and left Paris feeling cold even under Apollo's mighty rays.

Then, there was the eyes of that Greek fiend, Achilles. Cold, unfeeling eyes as he dragged Hector's battered body behind his black chariot drawn by his black steeds. The demi-god looked like Hades himself.

Paris's slack grip strengthened and steadied. The winds stilled and the air grew warm. Hector's voice could be heard softly beside his ear just as he had said those words before his death.

"Make me prouder than I am of you now, Paris, my beloved younger brother."

The arrow shot forward with a thrust that Paris did not know he could produce, and found its mark in the target's heart - in Achilles' heart. Like the bitter waves of Cocytus and Styx, tears stream down his face.

"Hector!" Paris lamented, and for the first time in his life, his brother did not answer.

---

The sound of flying arrows, faint as it may be, roused Andromache from her fitful slumber.

"Hector?" she cried as she sat up with a start.

Astyanax, began to cry from his cradle. Andromache lifted herself from her bed and scooped the babe up in her arms. She cradled him against her bosom and rocked him slowly back to sleep.

The act was enough to remind her of her Hector again. Men did not raise babes, but every night, Hector would hold his son in his arms and sing him lullabies in his deep, gruff voice. When Astyanax had fallen asleep, Hector would gently lower him into his cradle, then look up at Andromache and smile before climbing into bed and holding her tight in his strong, safe embrace.

'Where are you now, Hector, when I need you most?' Andromache thought. 'Oh, my husband, I never thought the times I would need you most is after you are gone. I will fulfill your promise. I will raise Astyanax to be a worthy heir to the Trojan throne, but I will not be at peace until I meet you again by the Stygian shores. I will not know what I eat or drink, nor tell apart the days from nights. I will be the embodiment of your wife, but I will be a ghost from now and after the time when the Fates will end my life.'

Astyanax had fallen asleep in her arms, his eyes, so much like Hector's, were closed in blissful sleep.

"My son, I envy that you are still too young to understand the pain of loss."

Andromache bent to kiss her babe's smooth forehead and soft locks. With Astyanax still in her arm, she followed the sound of the arrows and headed outside.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Enjoy! And don't forget to review!

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 3

The Greek encampment was strangely quiet as night fell. The great prince and leader of the Trojan army had fallen, it should have been a time of celebration as Agamemnon, king of Greece, was doing at the moment, but the Greek soldiers were strangely silent and solemn. Though he was their enemy, Hector's reputation as a great warrior, a fair prince, and a kind man prevented them from taking joy in his death.

As Achilles' black horses and chariot dragged the fallen Trojan across the beach where the Greeks were situated upon, soldiers stood by and watched the horrid procession.

The mighty Achilles had eyes for no one. He stepped off his chariot and strode boldly into his tent, where, all the men knew, waited his mistress, Briseis, cousin of the man he had just killed.

---

In the low light, Achilles could just make out his lover curled in a corner. She looked up tearfully and a look at him told her what had happened. Her cousin was dead, and standing in front of her was his killer.

If only she had killed Achilles when she had the chance, Hector would never have died. How could she have fallen in love with the enemy of her people? How could she have fallen in love with such a man as Achilles, whose brutal acts were too violent to even be spoken, who had killed more men then any other soldier on this Earth? She knew that she had betrayed her family, her country, and above all, her vow of celibacy as a priestess to Apollo.

He stared at her for a moment before removing his armour and washing himself clean of the blood from the fight - her cousin's blood.

"You lost your cousin, and now you have taken mine," she cried.

He ignored her and continued to bathe himself.

"Patroclus' death was an accident! He was wearing your armour! Hector thought that he was fighting you!"

Achilles glared at her steely. "That is why I made sure he knew who he was fighting this time."

"How can you be so cold?" Briseis sobbed. "Have you no feelings?"

His eyes softened. "My cousin has his revenge, let the deed be done."

Briseis shook her head as more tears slid down her cheeks. "Don't you understand, Achilles? The battle has just begun, and you were the one who started it."

He pounced on her, knocking her backwards as his hands tightly gripped her shoulders. "I did not begin this bloody war! Do not put the blame on me when your own cousin, Paris, was the one who brought such misery to your land!"

"He did it for love. But what is the use of trying to explain love to you, a warrior who knows no compassion?"

"I loved Patroclus, and for him I killed Hector. Paris loves Helen, and for her he sacrifices his countrymen. How can you say that I know not of love when Paris' intentions are exactly my own."

"Has Zeus given the reins to Ares who has driven us all to this maddening bloodshed? Too many have died for too foolish reasons. What is the purpose in living when we can be together forever with our loved ones when we enter the Elysian field?"

Briseis shoved him off of her and began to run out of the tent. Achilles watched from his position where she had pushed him.

"Do you love me?" His question stopped her in mid-step. She had not been expecting that from him.

Without turning around, she answered. "I am in love with a strong warrior, not a brutal killer. If it's death that you love so much, let my death quench your bloodthirstiness." With that she ran outside.

Achilles sat stunned for a moment, before he realized what she had said. Leaping to his feet he ran after her. He frantically surveyed the camp, but saw no signs of her, the beach was covered with soldiers in black armour, but nowhere could he see the beautiful woman in blue robes.

Farther down the shoreline, a soldier pointed at something out in the sea. More soldiers gathered to look. Achilles directed his gaze to the source of their attention and saw her floating face down on the water.

Without another word, he jumped into the water, still in his robe, and swam out to her and brought her back to land.

Her face was deathily cold, and she exhaled no breath. He brought his mouth down to her and manually blew air into her lungs. She coughed out water and opened her eyes.

"Briseis," he whispered touching her face softly.

"Why did you not let me die?" she demanded.

"I cannot." His voice cracked. "I cannot bare the thought of being without you. I'll fight no more, Briseis, I promise you. Come back to Greece with me, and we will forget this lifetime of war."

She turned away from him. "You are my enemy, I was a fool to have become distracted."

"And you, Briseis, you are my worst enemy because I am in love with you."

She stared at him in surprise. "You're what?"

"I love you," he whispered and kissed her. "I can't live without you. Come to Greece with me, please. You give me peace in a lifetime of war. My battle days are done, my love. Give me the peace I seek."

Briseis touched his face gently. "I will come with you only if you and your Myrmidons leave Troy in peace."

"I promise you that I will fight no more, and my Myrmidons will not fight without me. Your wish shall be fulfilled."

"Then I shall uphold my end of the bargain. I will go to Greece with you."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thanx a bundle to everyone who reviewed. You guys are awesome! I know it's been a little while, but here's three more chapters. Hope you guys like it just as much as the other ones, don't forget to review!

Next, let me take a little space to reply to some very important comments.

princess-elfie: I'm sorry I made you cry, I didn't mean to do that. But I'm flattered that my story moved you so. Btw, are you a Legolas fan?

Umm...I have no name: First, let me reply to your comment about my awful grammar. When I write, my ideas form faster than I can type, so in the heat of the moment, I neglect grammar to get everything down. I try to keep the tenses consistent, but because it's my own writing that I'm editing, I tend to miss a few. I have gone back and checked for grammar mistakes, and I will continue to keep an eye out for them in the future. Thank you very much for pointing it out to me at the beginning of my story. Next, Briseis sounded like she was fulfilling a pact instead of loving Achilles because of two reasons: 1. I'm trying to maintain her attitude as she was presented in the movie. 2. Achilles has just killed her cousin, she still mad at him, if not a lot, then just a little bit, that's why she's a little icy towards him. I hope that helps!

baphomet: you'd just have to wait and see! ;p

Larien-darlene: Do you really think it's strange that she attempted suicide? Regardless, I have gone back and added a little bit to chapter 3 that might clear things up for you.

Candice: Or can he? Dundundun...

Okay, I'm done now. On with the story!

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 4

Achilles sat across from Briseis in his tent as they ate supper together. He was exulted to know that she loved him too, and that soon they would wed and live a happy life together.

'Mother's prophecy was wrong. This war did not give me death, it gave me life as I have never known it before.'

"Achilles?" her voice roused him from his thoughts.

"Yes, my love?" He had almost lost her, and he was in no way willing to do so again. Achilles knew his temper to be short, but he also knew that to love was to make compromises. Briseis had always been his voice of reason. He knew that he must do everything to make it up to her.

"You must return Hector's body back to my uncle Priam, king of Troy. You know, just as well as anyone, that Hector deserves a proper funeral."

'Why does she always have to ask for the impossible?' he thought with an inward sigh as he answered her, "I cannot do that."

"And why can you not, my lord?"

"It is a matter that women would never understand."

Briseis raised her eyebrow. "I think I do understand. It is a matter of pride, is it not, my dear Achilles?"

"Do not make assumptions, woman."

"Bring my cousin's body back to Troy, or I will bring it back myself and stay in Troy."

"You will never make it out of the Greek camp alone, much less with the body of your cousin. The soldiers will kill you."

"Then so be it," Briseis replied.

Suddenly a man, his face hidden in the hood and folds of his dark cloak stumbled into the tent and fell upon his knees before Achilles. The man kissed Achilles' hands.

Achilles looked down at the stranger with contempt. "Who are you?" Achilles demanded as he pulled back his hand from the stranger's grasp.

"I have endured what no one on earth has endured," the stranger said. "I have kissed the hands of the man who have killed my son."

"Priam?" Achilles uttered in astonishment as the king of Troy removed his hood. "How did you get into here without being discovered?"

"Ah, you forget that this is my country, and I know it better than any foreigner would." Priam answered. "I have come to ask you to return my son's body to me. He is my child, and I loved him from the moment he opened his eyes to the moment that you closed them. Return him to me so that I can give him the proper funeral he deserves. Let me place a gold coin on each of his eyes, and burn his body so that he may rest in peace."

Achilles looked over at Briseis, who had been sitting wordlessly in a shadow.

Priam followed his gaze until it fell on his niece. "Briseis! We all thought that you were dead!"

"I assure you that I am not, my lord," Briseis replied as Priam swept her into his embrace.

Briseis looked meaningfully at Achilles.

"Alright," Achilles finally spoke, "I will give you back Hector's body. I only ask for a moment with him before I restore your son to you. He was the best warrior I have ever fought."

Priam bowed his head in thanks. "And will you return my niece to me?"

"That I cannot do," Achilles swiftly replied.

The king looked crestfallen. The warrior had changed his mind too quickly for him to save his niece as well.

"Uncle, I have made a pact with him that if he and his Myrmidons leave Troy, I will follow him."

Achilles nodded slightly, satisfied beyond belief at her answer to her uncle. "I shall take this moment to have my last words with Hector," Achilles announced, then he turned to Priam and said, "You are a far better king than the one leading this army."

"Briseis! The sacrifice that you're making!" Priam exclaimed once Achilles was out of the tent.

"It is no sacrifice," Briseis replied. "I do what I must for love."

Priam nodded in understanding. "May the gods be with you."

---

Outside, the night was warm and the winds were still, the white noise of the soldiers frolicking and bantering in the background could be heard indistinctly. It was one of those few times of relative peace during war.

Achilles' mind was in a turmoil. When he fought Hector, he had been furious at the man for causing Patroclus' death., but now, he wished that his mind was clearer. He wished that he had listened to Briseis when she begged him not to kill Hector. Hector was a good man, he knew, and his cousin's death was a mistake.

'It is like a great chain that can never be broken. One loss leads to another and another. Menelaus lost his wife, Agamemnon lost his brother, I have lost my cousin, and now Briseis has lost hers.'

Achilles knelt beside Hector's dirty, battered and bloody body silently. 'Hector, you are the best warrior that I have fought. Forgive me for what I have done, brother. Forgive me. I will see you often in my dreams as you wait for me on the other side of the Styx, and I know that when my time has ended, you will be there to greet me.'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

His bow taut, his arrow steady, Andromache watched as her brother-in-law let loose a swift arrow that readily found its mark.

'Paris had never been interested in fighting and weaponry, it had always been something that Hector forced him to learn, though he never paid attention. When had he become such a skilled marksman?' Andromache wondered.

Feeling that someone was watching him, Paris turned around, his next arrow already placed, and stretched taut in his bow.

"Oh!" Andromache gasped. For a brief moment, she thought she was seeing Hector. The determination and the solemnity of Paris' expression was so remarkably like her late husband's.

Paris quickly slacken his posture at the sight of his sister-in-law. "Sister!" he cried out in alarm. "Did I scare you?"

Andromache walked towards him. "No, well, I was startled."

Paris gave a light laugh. "I understand. I should learn where to point my bow and arrow."

Andromache joined into his laughter, the first time she had laughed since her husband's death. Her own laugh sounded foreign to her ears. "Yes, that would be a wise thing to learn."

Paris put down his bow and arrow and reached out for his nephew.

Andromache handed the sleeping babe to him. "Careful, Paris! You must support his head!" Andromache helped ease the babe into Paris' inexperienced arms.

Paris gently rocked Astyanax in the cradle of his arms, smiling down at the babe. He looked up at Andromache with a content smile before returning his attention back to his nephew.

Andromache was reminded of the first time Hector held his son, his initial awkwardness, followed by his loving tenderness. Tears began to stream down her face as she watched the scene before her.

Paris looked up at the sound of Andromache's crying. He beckoned her near and embraced her with one arm while holding Astyanax in the other. Gently, he rubbed her back as Andromache cried into his shoulder.

A soldier suddenly appeared, bowing low. "My highnesses! The King request your presence immediately!"

They quickly followed the soldier out into the large courtyard in the center of Troy. Many Trojan citizens were already gather there. Wood was piled high into a ceremonial tower. The citizens instantaneously parted to let the Princes and Princess through.

"Father," Paris said.

Priam embraced both him and Andromache. "Achilles has returned Hector to us." He led his son and daughter over to Hector's body. It had been cleansed of the blood and dirt that previously encased him, but his skin was still raw from the abuse.

Andromache broke down into floods of tears at the sight and fell to her knees beside her husband.

Paris cradled Astyanax who was now awake. "My little nephew," Paris told him, "this great man who now lies dead before you is your father. Grow up to be a man that he would be proud of, my little one." He handed the child to his nanny and knelt down beside his brother. He leaned down and kissed Hector's forelocks.

Soldiers came and carried Hector's body up to the top of the wooden tower, followed by Priam with a torch.

The old king steadily climbed the rickety stairs while holding the torch in one hand. He smiled a bittersweet smile down at his son. "I love you, my child," he said, then placed a gold coin atop of each of Hector's closed eyes, and lit the tower, climbing down afterwards.

The wood was dry and the flames licked it hungrily, consuming the tower and Hector with it. A lone tear slid down Paris' cheek as he looked up at the fire before him. 'My brother, I will avenge you.'


	6. Chapter 6

AN: You know the drill, read and review! But in the meantime, enjoy the story.

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 6

Troy was quickly growing smaller and smaller with each stroke of the men's paddles. Briseis sat at the stern of the ship and watched as her beloved country slowly disappear from view.

"That is my country, Achilles," she says to Achilles who was sitting beside her. "I have known no other home. In all my life, I have never stepped foot outside of Troy, and now I'm leaving it behind forever."

Achilles took her hand in his and held it silently. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't want to say anything that would make her change her mind about going to Greece with him.

"I should be crying, but I'm not for all my tears have been used up of late."

Though his heart was consumed with guilt, Achilles replied stonily, "Let the dead rest."

---

"Where is Achilles?" demanded Agamemnon to his subjects.

"Gone, my lord," Odysseus replied humbly.

"Gone?" roared the Greek king. "Gone where?"

"Achilles and his Myrmidons have returned to Ithaca, your highness."

"Hector is dead, Greece is on the eve of victory, and Achilles chooses this time to leave? Of all the warlords loved by the gods, I hate him the most!"

"This will be the greatest war the world has ever seen. We need the greatest warrior. We need to bring Achilles back!" argued Nestor, another council to Agamemnon.

"Achilles has returned to Greece to seek a lifetime of peace," Odysseus informed them.

"Peace? Never mind that fool. Peace is for women and the weak. A great victory was won today, but that victory was not his. Kings do not kneel to Achilles. Kings do not pay homage to Achilles. History remembers kings, not soldiers! We don't need the help of a lowly coward like Achilles. Tomorrow we'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments for victory on every island of Greece. I'll carve Agamemnon in the stones."

---

Priam sat wearily in his court alone. Though Achilles and the Myrmidons have left, the Greeks were still on Trojan soil and Priam knew that Agamemnon was not willing to leave yet. Especially not now when Troy's finest warrior, Hector, is dead. Agamemnon will strike while the iron is hot. What general could take Hector's place?

"Father?" Priam looked up to see his youngest son walking towards him.

"Paris."

"Will you grant me a favour?"

"What kind of favour, my son?"

"Let me lead our army into battle tomorrow."

Priam shook his head. "I cannot. You are inexperienced with war, Paris. How can I put the lives of thousands of Trojan men into callow hands?"

"Father, I have shadowed Hector in every battle since I was twelve, though I have only six and ten years, my brother has taught me faithfully and well during the last four years."

"Paris, I will not grant you this wish."

"I must have this favour, father. I must take up Hector's place. I must slay the brute who of late murdered my brother."

"Achilles has left Greece with Briseis and his Myrmidons."

"Briseis? Does my fair cousin live?"

"She does."

"And she has left Troy with Achilles?"

"Yes."

"I know my cousin well, my lord. Her vow to Apollo is steady. Abominable fiend! He has robbed us of her!"

"Peace, my son, peace. Briseis told me that she made a pact with him that if she goes with him, he and his warriors would leave Troy in peace."

"May the gods bless her soul, and all of Troy praise her for her patriotic deed."

"Amen to that," Priam agreed solemnly.

A moment of silence settled as both men thought of brave Briseis' courage.

"Father! You must let me lead our army! I will drive out the Greeks and bring Briseis back."

Priam held his son's gaze steadily. "However great a teacher Hector may have been, and however studious a pupil you were, such things learnt then are of no use to you now. Vengeful anger renders you blind and deaf, Paris. Let the matter rest, my son. I understand your sorrow. I have recently lost a son too," he reminded Paris. "In time, you will be able to lead our great army. But for now, I bid you to bed. Artemis' reign is near its end."

---

Odysseus lay fretfully in his tent, there was something about Achilles' retreat that he wasn't fond of. He couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of his displeasure, but it made him uncomfortable all the same, perhaps more so than if he had known.

Odysseus had seen the Trojan maiden who Achilles is enamoured with and, hard as he tried, he could not fathom the intensity of Achilles' attraction to her. It was as though the order of things were in a jumble. Achilles loved women, but he never fell in love with them. He was a hardened warrior, yet his heart has been penetrated by a simple maiden?

If the situation had not been so strange and true, Odysseus would have laughed it off as a bad jest. 'What next?' Odysseus thought silently to himself as he stared up at the darkness around him. 'Prince Paris will lead the Trojan army in place of his brother?' This, Odysseus had to laugh at.

The image was too absurd. He could still see the blood-splattered Paris from his duel with Menelaus. Odysseus had never seen such terrible swordsmanship in all his experience.

If Troy's military pride was Hector, then Paris must be its unspeakable shame.

Odysseus listen to the rush of the Aegean Sea outside. The waves crashed onto the beach in a violent way, breaking the silence of the Greek camp with its startling crescendos and decrescendos, like a symphony of incomplete cadences that made the heart ill at ease.

'I must try to sleep. I must renew my energy for the ambush on Troy tomorrow.'

But Odysseus had barely closed his eyes when the outlook sounded the horn in warning.

He stumbled out of his tent and looked up the sand dunes just in time to see a lone figure drop his arm from its position that was pointing towards the sky. Suddenly a scattered rain of flaming arrows lobbed lazily across the air and struck the sandy beach several hundred feet from the camp.

Odysseus could hear some men laughing and hooting at the terrible aim and lack of strength, but Odysseus himself could hardly make a sound. His stomach tightened and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword firmly, ready to extricate it for combat.

The figure on top of the sand dune raised his arm again only to drop it once more seconds later. A second volley of flaming arrows struck the sand several hundred feet away.

In the midst of the fire from the arrows, the face of the figure on the dunes was lit.

"It's Hector!" gasped a soldier in horror.

"Don't be foolish!" another soldier reprimanded him. "It's only Paris."

The men laughed again at even the idea of it. Odysseus was feeling more nauseous by the minute. There was something largely unsettling about Paris leading the Trojan army. It was as deranged as Achilles sailing away from the middle of a raging war with his love.

Paris raised his arm a final time, and before he could drop it, Odysseus finally found his voice and shouted, "Run! Save yourself!" and ran into the water. He didn't know what in Zeus' name made him do such a thing, but his instinct had never led him astray, and his instinct had screamed at him to run into the sea.

A few men followed his lead, but the rest were laughing too hard at the sight of Paris leading the mighty Trojan army to take heed of Odysseus' advice.

In horror, Odysseus watched as Paris drop his arm a third and final time. Instead of flaming arrows, enormous balls of dried hay appeared, each pushed by several Trojan soldiers down the sand dunes, where they rolled, and gained speed, and rolled...The balls of hay collided into the array of flaming arrows upon the sand and from this collision, great balls of fire were born, tumbling faster and faster into the Greek camp.

The men who had laughed were now running around in mad flight as the flaming balls blindly smashed into whatever lay in its path, regardless of whether it was men, horses, or tents.

A fierce scream pierced the already noisy air. "Attack!" Odysseus heard Paris yell before a black and bronze wave of soldiers flooded down the sand dune, brandishing their swords.

Paris was actually leading the mighty Trojan army. Something was very, very wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Again, I'm sorry that I've taken so long to update, unfortunately this trend will continue until circumstances differ for the following reasons (listed in order of importance):

1. I have a writer's block. A major one, at that. Anyone and everyone is welcome to suggest what should happen next and so forth in the story.

2. My English course has an extremely heavy reading load and I spend every spare minute reading.

3. Not to sound petty, and this isn't really the reason I write, but it would be nice to get more reviews just so I can improve. I thank all of you who have reviewed so far and especially to those who have reviewed again and again. I will always be thankful for your avid reading of my story. On that note, I hereby announce that the frequency of my update will match the demand for the story (and also my workload). My humblest apologies if I sound bitchy.

Next, I'll like to waste a little more space and reply to some comments that I'm not sure if they need replying.

Victoria Wolf: Yes, Paris is going to hunt Achilles down, but I don't know if Achilles will live yet. That is certainly a direction that I can pursue. Since you want him to live so much...I'll see what I can do. :)

Bosie: I think that if the story of Troy had been otherwise, Paris' character would have actually gone after Achilles. His character was so weak (in many sense) in the movie, and I really don't think it did him credit.

princess-elfie: Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're too sweet! And as to your LOTR comments, I only have three words in response. "Amen to that."

Freakazoid: Hey thanks! My dialogue is rather influenced by middle English at the moment, since that's what I've been reading lately, especially Shakespeare, because I've just finished King Lear. I really like the word "bloodlust" but I also like the word "quench", so what does everyone think? "...let my death quench your bloodthirstiness"? Or, "...let my death satisfy your bloodlust"?

Hope you enjoy, feel free to suggest where the story should go, and don't forget to review!

xoxo, nat

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Paris strolled into the palace, his wounds freshly dressed, but his armour was still caked with mud and stained with blood. He walked proudly into the palace, into Troy, his back straight, his head high. But though he was a prince by birth, he felt like a fraud.

'It should be Hector who is in my place now. It should have been Hector who drove the Greeks out.'

Women had thrown flowers in front of him and his horse in celebration of their victory and return as he led his army through the streets of Troy. Once, he would have relished such lavish attention from the opposite sex, but Paris was a different man now. His eyes did not so much as even glance at the most beautiful maidens who lined the street.

He was a wiser man now, having learnt that his imprudent action may have such drastic consequences.

He was also in love. For although he may be angry at Helen for everything that has happened, he was doubly as angry at himself for convincing her to make such a rash decision. Besides, he truly did love her. It was a swelling that rose from the bottom of his heart until it overwhelmed him every time he thought of her.

Much as he loved Andromache, Paris could never understand how Hector could love only his wife. That was until he met Helen, and realized that when you've found the one who you truly love, it doesn't matter that you're only with her, for a thousand fresh maidens could never take her place.

Paris flinched slightly as a bolt of pain shot through the shoulder where he had been stabbed. His skill with the sword had drastically improved in the past few days. The men in the Trojan army were all willing to give him lessons and tips on the art of swordplay. The men from the Greek army were even more willing to give him a few lethal lessons with the sword.

The armour felt too heavy for that shoulder to support, and Paris wanted nothing more than to rip it off. His body was filled with fatigue from the battle.

In their continual assault on the Greeks, Paris had ordered the Trojans soldiers to fight and sleep in rounds. The disadvantage was that their offensive was a smaller force, but Paris utilized his skilled archers to the most of their abilities. Though this was a war of sword and spear, the bow and arrow dominated. From their position up high on the sand dunes, the Greeks were helplessly trapped below with an incessant rain of arrow in front of them and the roaring sea behind.

After the sixth day of assault, the Greeks finally received orders from Agamemnon to retreat and leave Troy, returning home with much lighter ships.

Priam warily eyed his youngest son, as Paris stepped into the palace. It had been a week since Priam last spoke to his son, when he refused to grant Paris leadership of the Trojan army. His son had ignored him and attacked the Greeks anyway. Though Paris was successful this time, Priam feared that his son's luck may not be with him every time.

Paris bowed slightly in greeting of his father.

"You have deliberately disobeyed me," Priam thundered indignantly. "You have put all of your countrymen in danger because of your rash ideals."

Paris glared at his father. "I have driven out the Greeks," he replied curtly.

"That is not the point! The lives of the soldiers..."

"Rests in the hands of the Fates," Paris cut his father off. "If it is their time to die, then so be it. This is a war, father. Men die in wars. We have faithfully defended Troy and defeated the Greeks. If that is not the point, then tell me what is?"

"You are too young to lead an army."

"Am I? Hector led our army when he was sixteen."

"But you're not Hector, are you?" Priam shouted angrily. "You are an insensible imbecile! Hector didn't go around starting wars!" He didn't like the idea of Paris trying to take Hector's place. No one can ever take Hector's place. Priam loved Paris, but he also loved Hector. Paris can't possibly fulfilled both roles. The sudden realization that Hector is truly gone forever tore Priam apart from inside.

Paris glared at his father. "I may be the insensible imbecile who started this war, and insensible imbecile that I am, I will take responsibility and end this war. I will leave for Greece anon. I will kill the brute who had slain my beloved brother and bring my fair cousin back to Troy."

---

Briseis watched as Achilles slept. His brazen chest rose and fell with each slow breath. His strong features were softened by the effects of sleep.

'It would be so easy to kill him now,' Briseis thought. But immediately, she felt guilty even at the thought of it.

She was his woman now, she belonged to him. She could still feel the heat of his body above hers as he made passionate and tender love to her just hours before. She should support him in everything he does, not plot to murder him. Yet, his dagger lay so tempting as its cold glare beckoned her under the shaft of moonlight that spilled into the tent. Artemis' revenge for Achilles' disrespect for her brother.

Her arm snaked out from under the blankets and touched the dagger, flinched at its coolness and the pain as a drop of blood appeared from where the knife penetrated her skin. Her fingers lightly traced the blade, the handle, then slowly her fingers curled around it, lifting it off the ground. The small weapon felt immensely heavy in her hand.

Suddenly, an image of Hector's body after Achilles had dragged him across the land appeared in her mind. Orphaned at a young age, and raised in the palace by her uncle Priam alongside her cousins, Hector and Paris were like brothers to her.

She closed her eyes now, and she could see Hector's solemn face, his warm smile, his alert eyes. He had always been there to protect her, to protect Paris, to protect Troy. How can it be that such a good man be deprived of life so early?

Her eyes flew open, and she saw lying before her, in blissful sleep that mocks death, his killer. The fingers tightened around the dagger and in a flash, she lifts it to his throat.

"Do it."

Briseis faltered, startled to find that Achilles' was awake.

"My life is yours, Briseis. If you wish me death, then die I shall."

She pulled back. "I don't know what I want! I don't understand how I can feel the feelings that I'm feeling. How can I claim to love my cousin, Hector, when I am in love with the man who killed him?"

She stumbled out of the tent. Falling to her knees, she began to pray. "Mighty Apollo! Give me peace! Give me peace of mind! Show me the path that I have strayed so far from!"

Achilles appeared beside her and turned her towards him. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed seeing the blood on her finger. He put it to his mouth and gently licked the blood off and sucked lightly at her wound. She pulled her hand away from him mouth and continued her appeal to Apollo.

"Why appeal to the gods, my love, when our lives are so much fuller than theirs. The gods may have made us, but it is us, immortals, who truly live!"

"How can you abuse the gods so?" Briseis whispered as tears streamed down her face. "Have you no respect for them?"

"Let me tell you a secret, something they don't teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be more lovely than you are now. We will never be here again. So why waste your tears on things that no longer are? Shed not tears for Hector. You will see him again one day, the sorrow of this parting is only temporary."

"And were you thinking that when you were avenging Patroclus?" Briseis shot back. "Were you listening to your own wisdom then when you killed Hector?"

Achilles sighed. Hector's death would always be a thorn in their love. "I was not thinking clearly then," he admitted.

"Well, perhaps you should have! Sorrow might not even be felt if no parting comes to pass. Why, you! Achilles the great warrior should be guiltiest of all men who slay other men!"

"Men are wretched things," Achilles replied solemnly.

"Why, my love? Why did you choose this life?"

"What life?"

"To be a great warrior."

"I chose nothing," Achilles replied after a moment of deep contemplation. "I was born and this is what I am. I fight for I must. It is in my blood, in my soul. I fight because that is who I am. A blacksmith's talent lies in his hearth and his hammer, a philosopher's lies in his thoughts and his speech, mine lies in my sword and my spear."

"If killing is your only talent, then it is your curse."

"Aye," Achilles agreed. "I have been foreseen as the cursed son of Peleus and Thetis. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps that is my curse."

"You lie, my lord!" Briseis suddenly burst out in exclamation. "Can you deny it now? Your voice rings false!"

"How so, my love?"

"You promised me that you will fight no more, yet you claim that you live to fight."

"Yes, but I've also given my life to you. My life lies now in your kind hands. A word from you renders me helpless. I have given my life to you. And if it pleases you that I fight no more, then fight no more I shall."

Briseis turned away. She was split between her love for Achilles and her love for Hector and Troy. 'I am a traitor. I have slept with the enemy. I have loved the enemy. I have held the enemy in warm embrace and brushed my lips against his. I have sinned. Achilles is wrong. I have been condemned to Tartarus, I will not see Hector again.'

She looked at Achilles waiting for her reply, his eyes full of love and she knew what she must do.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: A big thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the epitome of awesome.

I'm just going to leave a quick note because I'm sure everyone would like to get on with the story rather than to hear me ramble.

Freakazoid: I got quoted! I just realized that I got quoted. Oh Gods! Oh Apollo! Oh Zeus! Oh whoever is up there! This is a memorable first for me. hyperventilates and falls off chair. Just kidding, but it was a shocking and wonderful first. Thanks. ;p

Victoria Wolf: You have blasted away half my writer's block with one blow. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're too cool for words.

troy: You're right, I needed a Helen and Paris scene. I was just trying to avoid writing it until I absolutely had to. Is it just me or is Helen a really hard character to portray? This one's for you, bud.

Alright, I'm done. On with the story, and thanks again for reviewing, and don't forget to review this time so that I know how soon I should update.

xoxo, nat

PS: total randomness, but did you know that there's a fragrance called Troy? I think it's by Tommy Hilfiger. The guy version smells pretty nice.

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Chapter 8 

Helen redressed Paris' wounds in the privacy of their chamber. "I hear that you head for Greece, my lord," she said quietly as she tended to his shoulder.

"Who did you hear that from?"

"The palace has many eyes and ears. Is it true, Paris? Are you going to Greece?"

"Yes. Immediately. I will set sail at first light."

"Don't go, my love. Hector would not have wanted revenge."

"No," Paris replied. "He would not have. But I must. I must avenge my brother, that is the only way that I can live with myself."

"Do you really believe that killing Achilles would dissipate your guilt?"

"I do not know. I would not know until the deed is done."

"So your mind is firm? You will not waver in your decision?"

Paris shook his head. "I will not. There is also something else that I must retrieve from Achilles other than Hector's revenge and my pride."

"What, Paris?"

"Briseis."

"Briseis went with Achilles?"

Paris sat up violently. "No! My cousin would never willingly leave Troy with him, the savage forced her!"

Helen gently pushed Paris to lie down again. "Gentle, my love! You wouldn't want to injure your wounds further."

The couple fell into silence as Helen finished dressing Paris' shoulder. Paris looked at Helen's troubled face and asked, "What troubles you, my love?"

Helen looked away, hesitated, then finally spoke. "If you go after him," she paused and turned to look Paris in the eye, "you will be no different from him."

---

On the shore of Ithaca, a woman sat on the rocks overlooking the sea. The sun shone on her brazen face, and aglowed the strands of silver that laced her brown hair. This is Thetis, daughter of the sea, mother of Achilles, who waited on this rugged beach everyday for news of her beloved son, though she knew what the news would be.

His life was seen before he was born. Cursed son to the warrior Peleus, Achilles would be the greatest warrior Greece has ever seen. From this war in Troy, Achilles would forever be remembered as the great warrior that he is, but his glory walks hand-in- hand with his doom.

Perhaps she should have persuade him to stay in Greece, to settle down and have children. His name may not be remembered by the world, but it will be remembered by his children. What kind of mother was she to send her own flesh and blood to his death?

But she had to. Achilles was fated to be great, and fates cannot be changed. Death was only a matter of time for anyone who lives. Thus, Thetis let Achilles have his glory, so that the world would remember him, though she would be losing her only son.

A familiar sight appeared above the horizon and filled Thetis' heart with dread. Her son had not been gone but a few years, had his life so soon expired?

Then to her amazement, a familiar figure stepped out of the ship. "Mother!" he cried as he ran to her.

"You have returned, my son."

"I have. I have been struck, mother!" Achilles proclaimed with fervent.

This shocked Thetis greatly and she immediately inquired with concern, "You are wounded?"

"Nay, mother. Eros' golden shaft did pierce my heart when I saw my Briseis."

"Briseis, my son?"

"My bride, mother. I have chosen the other choice."

"The other choice?" Achilles nodded happily, more happy that Thetis has ever seen him. Looking past her son's shoulder, Thetis spied a beautiful young woman descending the ship with the Myrmidons.

"I have chosen to settle down and have children."

By this time, the beautiful young woman was at Achilles' side. "Mother, this is Briseis. Briseis, my love, this is my mother, Thetis."

The young woman greeted her warmly, yet solemnly. Thetis could see that though Briseis' face was fresh and young, her eyes were experienced and had seen much trouble and suffering. Her son's lover had the face of an innocent child but the mind of a wise woman.

Thetis watched her son, who was looking at his bride with adoration in his eyes like that she had never seen before. Suddenly, she grew afraid.

* * *

Sorry about the short chapter. And as for what Briseis must do...I'm afraid you all will have to wait a little longer. ducks as tomatoes are thrown. Review if you want the next chapter! :) 


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you for all the amazing reviews that I recieved. I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner, but I have been detained by work. Now, before I respond to reviews as I usually do, I have a few burning question that I hope someone, anyone can provide me some answers to. I have been doing a little research to write this story better and to give me some inspiration, unfortunately all that it has given me so far is a tangle of confusion.

1. Is Achilles' father, Peleus, prince of Thessaly or King of Phthia, or both?

2. Apollo is the god of music, but is he also the god of the sun? Is Helios the god of the sun? Or are they both gods of the sun and Helios is the roman name for Apollo?

3. Is Mother Earth's name Themis, Gaia, or both?

That's all the questions I have so far, if anyone can give me answers I'd really appreciate it. Next, let me respond to some of the most excellent reviews that I have ever recieved.

Chandramukhi: Hmm, a duel between Achilles and Paris, you say? Excellent idea! I prophesize that our two heros may clash swords in the future. Lol.

Bosie Bloo: I don't remember that part about Ruffus falling out of the sky, but I laughed just as hard when I read it from your review. Jay is awesome! What I would say, especially at the moment, would be: "It's not like beautiful naked Greek and Trojan men fall outta the sky you know!"

Trojans: Or would Thetis be the evil, much dreaded mother-in-law? Dundundun.

Chaosity: Wow! Thank you so, so much for such a thorough review. Before I continue, and I'm gonna sound stupid for asking it, but what is an AU fic? Thank you also for the excellent suggestion of words. I haven't had time to really look into them yet, or to make changes my story, but I will very soon. Oh my gods! You read my mind. I'd just say so much, otherwise I'd ruin the story, but there is one other factor that I have inserted into this chapter, a little twist, that I hope none of you have anticipated.

reader: Concerning chapter 7, I thought I wrote something that I obviously didn't, so I will go back soon to clear that mess of boat/tent up. Yes, I was wondering if "Amen" was too Christian-ish when I was writing it. Also if you could point out to me specifically where I mixed colloquiallism and modern language with "classic" then I would gladly go back and revise. You can leave me a message on the review board, or you can feel free to email me at nataliehudson028hotmail.com. No spam please.

Shannon Roberts: Yes, in tradition of the Trojan royal family, they can't seem to take good advice, otherwise how would we ever get such a delightful story as Troy? And what excuse would we have of catching delectible glimpses of Brad Pitt's butt? ;P

Alright, if you're reading this, I congratulate and thank you for not losing patient with me and just skipping to the story. But now, I will hold my tongue so that you can enjoy chapter 9 in peace.

Enjoy and review!

xoxo, nat

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Chapter 9

Andromache stole through the palace, her husband's sword hidden in her deep cloak. The sky blushed as Apollo began to drive his fiery chariot through the sky. The drops from Artemis' bath still lingered on each blade of grass and each piece of leave. The crickets had quieted their nocturnal songs, only to be replaced by the shriller melodies of the birds.

Paris stepped out of his chamber and drew back, startled to find someone waiting for him. "Good morning, sister! Have you been waiting for me?"

"Yes, but I have not waited long."

"What service may I do you?"

"I heard that you are sailing to Greece to seek and slay Achilles."

Paris chuckled. "The palace does have many eyes and ears. Do you wish to stop me as well? My father could not stop me, my wife could not stop me, and you will be no exception."

"Ah," Andromache said with a grave smile, "but I will be an exception, brother. For you see, I want you to go to Greece."

"You do?"

Andromache nodded. "I want you to kill the man who took my husband and your brother's life. Finish what Hector should have finished." She thrust Hector's sword into Paris' hands.

Paris stared down at the heavy weapon in his hands, then in a flash, he pulls out the sword that hadn't seen light since the death of its master. It gleamed brightly in the light of the rising sun, ready as ever.

---

Under Apollo, and in the presence of Thetis and the Myrmidons, Achilles and Briseis wedded. All day and night, they danced merrily and feasted heartily. Thetis smiled but was silent. She was happy that her son had returned, happy for him that he had found and wedded the one he loved, but her heart felt ill at ease. The prophecy had not been fulfilled, thus it could only mean one thing - the war with Troy had yet to end.

Achilles was still laughing as he sat down beside his mother. His eyes lingered constantly on his new wife, who looked radiant in her blue dress that Briseis had made and Thetis had hand-dyed herself. The seashell necklace that he had given her glittered in its pearly brilliance as Briseis dance, but even the lustrous gems of the sea paled in comparison to the even more brilliant smile on her face.

For the first time since the war began, Briseis felt only happiness. Let her troubles stay in Troy. She was determined to be a good wife and begin a life of wedded bliss with Achilles. 'I can only be condemned to Tartarus once, and since I have made my decision, it makes no difference that I sin again.'

"How fare you, mother?" Achilles asked. Thetis looked at her smiling son. He had always been a silent and solemn boy, his face often expressionless, his emotions seen only through the thrust of his sword and the throw of his spear.

"Very well, my dear. I am happy for you. You have picked a fine wife."

"Aye," Achilles agreed readily, admiring his wife as she danced. He turned to his mother. "But something troubles you, mother. From the moment I return, I know that something has been on your mind."

Thetis smiled slightly. "How did you know?"

"I am not your son without a reason. You have raised me, and cared for me, and loved me all these years. How can I not know my own mother's heart?"

Thetis rubbed her hand against his cheek as she had when he was just a boy. "Dear, dear heart," she said softly.

"Mother, please tell me what is wrong."

Thetis shook her head. "It's nothing, my son. Go enjoy your wedding day," a sadness passed over her eyes and her voice grew somber with grief, "your wife awaits you."

---

Odysseus entered Agamemnon's court wearily. It truly was a disgrace as a king himself to serve another king, especially one as wicked as Agamemnon. But as he had reasoned with Achilles before, sometimes, one must follow in order to lead. He wondered what was the cause of this meeting, guessing vaguely that the matter concerned Troy since Agamemnon retreated rather unsatisfied.

Odysseus was the last to enter Agamemnon's court, and he found the Greek king yelling furiously when he arrived.

"Who did you say was leading the Trojans?" Agamemnon demanded.

"Prince Paris," Nestor replied, rather meekly.

"Paris? The same one who begged his brother to help him fight?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Nestor nodded anyway.

"I will be the laughing stock of the world! To be defeated by a child! A child!" Agamemnon turned from Nestor and saw Odysseus. "Ah, Odysseus. I have been impatiently awaiting your arrival."

Odysseus bowed slightly. "I apologize for the delay, my lord."

Agamemnon gave a dismissive wave at Odysseus' apology. "Achilles lives in Ithaca?"

"I believe so, my lord."

"Good. Then you shall seek him out and kill the coward who abandoned us at Troy."

"But my lord, you said..." Odysseus began.

"I want Achilles dead. Either you can do it, or I will send in my army. And if I need to kill everyone in Ithaca to find and kill Achilles, then I will. Now, Odysseus, shall I do the deed? Or shall I leave the pleasure to you?" Agamemnon leered.

Odysseus contemplated, he could see Nestor looking at him pitifully. Ah, how did great men like Nestor and he come to obey such men as Agamemnon? Odysseus gave an inward sigh. He could either sacrifice his friend, or every one of his countrymen.

"I'll do it."

Agamemnon gave a hearty laugh. "I knew you would! I give you three moons' time to bring Achilles' head to me. If I don't have his head by then, you leave me no choice but to send in my men."

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What do you guys think? Review, review and review so that my inbox will be stuffed and I will be forced to update in order to clear it out! :D Suggestions and constructive criticisms are more than welcomed! 


	10. Chapter 10

AN: In honour of Brad Night, a marathon of Brad Pitt movies, that my friends and I had last night, I am going to update chapter 10!

Actually, the actual reason I wanted to update is to apologize for the decreasing frequency in updates. I am currently working on an essay for my English class that's worth 45% of my final mark. Needless to say, I'm worried about it. Having said that, I'm afraid I won't be able to update again until after July 14th. After which I will update with increased regularity.

Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys rock! And thanks for answering my questions. I have decided to forget about Helios altogether. Apollo shall be the god of the sun as well. I don't know if I'm still going to use Mother Earth. And Peleus shall be from Pthia since Thessaly is the modern name.

Alexander's Bane: Thank you for the ego booster! You're too sweet. Yes, I do believe that "bane" means something similar to kill, I think it's to cause harm or to ruin, but that's almost the same anyway. Personally I like Alexander's Bane better than Alexander's Death. In reference to your question about Alexander being Paris' nickname, I'm afraid I don't know.

Chandramukhi: Yup, major conflicts arising and more to come!

baphomet: thanks for reviewing and supporting me from the start. My gratitude to you is beyond words.

Firien Inuyasha: Thanks for your great reviews. Every bit of criticism help. I have put Achilles in Ithaca for the purpose of setting up Odysseus' story. I knew he didn't live there, but I wanted him to live outside of his homeland. I will attempt to resist further temptations to pull an Austen's "Emma" in future chapters and put in more character developments. Although I don't believe this chapter was too terrible since my ploy was to advance the plot. Your comment about Achilles made me think A LOT! I can see where you're coming from, but I also think that he is a sweet guy deep down who wouldn't want to say anything that would make his family worry, and who is afraid to express his feelings of love. Just as he is a harden warrior, I believe him equally to be a tender and passionate lover.

Chaosity: Yay! Another long review! :D A "Bring Achilles to heel" party? That's funny! I hope I'm invited! ;P Thanks for pointing out my grammar mistake. I will go back and change it soon. I will put more imagery in future chapters. I was hesitant to do that before because I'm afraid I'd put everyone to sleep.

princess-elfie: thanks for reviewing and supporting me from the start. My gratitude to you is beyond words.

enjorli: I agree, Thetis is rather smart.

jaylis: doesn't anyone want Achilles to be a tragic hero?

tryhonesty: hey thanks! I love your story's plotline though. It's very original.

Okay, I'm done. Happy reading, review and I'll see you all soon!

xoxo, nat

* * *

Chapter 10 

Apollo had barely begun his daily trek, but the market was already awake with sounds and activities. Briseis linked one arm through her woven basket, the other through the arm of Thetis as the two women walked gaily through the marketplace.

Briseis was silent as she looked round at the sounds and sight that were both foreign and familiar to her. Common and rare commodities were laid out in brilliant display on the wooden stands that lined the street. The fragrances of fruits and perfumes wafted and mingled in the air. The colourful beads and shining stones and beasts that grunted and roared and neighed drew the eyes in every direction. But one particular vendor appealed to Briseis more so than all others, and unknowingly she drifted towards his stand.

"Come, come! See the spearheads of the greatest warriors!"

"The spearheads of which great warrior have you here?" Briseis asked.

"Oh, madam! That you should ask such a question!" the man replied sanguinely. He picked up a finely detailed spearhead, shaped into the form of a spade. "Behold, madams! The spearhead of bold Ajax, captain of the Locrians! And see here, madams!" the vendor announced as he scooped up a familiar-looking, well-polished silver spearhead, "The spearhead of mighty Achilles the greatest warrior ever lived!"

"This man is a fool," Thetis whispered to Briseis. "If that dull point served my son, his life would have long expired."

"He speaks a token of truth," Briseis replied, unwilling to take leave of the vendor yet, "Achilles is the greatest warrior that men have ever seen."

Thetis bestowed a gentle smile at Briseis.

Their attention was diverted once again as the vendor continued on. "Ah, but every battle has two sides. This may bring you discomfort, madams, but be not frighten, for this is only the spearhead of a dead man. May I present to you, the spearhead of Hector! prince of Troy," he declared as he picked up a third and bronze spearhead so similar to that of Hector's that Briseis felt uneasy as though her heart was trapped in a vice. Her face paled under the morning sun and she tottered on her feet. Thetis held her arm firmly to steady her.

The vendor, seeing the affect the enemy's spearhead had on the young woman, quickly put it down in place of another.

"Let me see Hector's spearhead again," Briseis commanded softly.

Her hands shook as the vendor handed the heavy piece of bronze to her. She lay it down on the palm of one hand and lovingly stroked it with the fingers of her other. When she left Troy with Achilles, she had nothing of her own, nothing that she could take with her as a parting memory of her beloved country of youth. And, though she knew that the spearhead in her hand was not Hector's, but one of a poor craftsman trying to earn some money for a bit of bread, memories of yore flooded her mind till tears threatened to fall and betray her nationality.

"Name your price, sir, I will take this spearhead."

---

Briseis clutched the false spearhead to her bosom which was filled with a sense of nostalgia and culpability.

"Do you miss Troy?" Thetis asked.

"Terribly, mother. I miss it so much that I am in physical pain every time I think of my homeland. I am worry about my people and my family. Every night I pray for their safety. Oh, mother! The war is terrible, so many has lost their lives and so many more mourns."

Thetis gave a grave sigh. "It is a great shame that hatred should weld stronger than friendship. How strange that a joining of love should result to such tumultuous discord, and such a becoming marriage between two lovers should bring death rather than life. Men act in haste to preserve their pride, yet what is pride but mere vanity, whose seed are sown in foolhardy minds and whose flowers blossom under the rain of blood and bitter tears."

Suddenly, a man sprang upon Briseis. He looked most peculiar with his long hair knotted into confused tangles, his face deep with the lines of years of wisdom, yet his eyes were filled with a wild craze. His white robe of fine silk was torn in many places and streaked with dirt. He appeared to be the unlikely combination of a king and a beggar.

His eyes narrowed as he peered into Briseis' face and he shook his unruly hair. "Cursed widower!" the man thundered, causing everyone around them in the market to stop and watch the scene. "You will be the undoing of your husband!"

Briseis drew back, but the man held her forearm tightly to the point which gave pain. "Sir," Briseis stammered, "unhand me!"

Unexpectedly, the man's eyes grew wide as though he had just awoken from a deep sleep, he glanced at Briseis as though in fright, then quickly stumbled away and disappeared into the once again noisy crowd.

Briseis quivered with fear and Thetis' visage paled.

"Who was that? And why would he say such horrid things?" Briseis asked in an unsteady whisper.

Thetis put her arm around the younger woman's shaking shoulders. "Bare not his lunatic words in your mind, my dear. It is unhealthy to be griefed by such trifling."

"But who is he?" Briseis asked on with determination.

Thetis hesitated. "He is no one but a crazy beggar."

* * *

Hope you liked this chapter. Reviews and suggestions are more than welcome! 


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Okay, I lied. I apologize profusely for not updating sooner. I don't have any excuse for it, so I'm not even going to try to make one up. But thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Just a question to **love-shannen** and especially **Yanlie**, out of curiousity, how did you guys find this story? This chapter is a little slow because I'm getting warmed up again, but stick around and I promise that this chapter and the next is building up to something big in chapter 13. Anyway, I'll let you judge for yourself. Sorry I can't reply to everyone's wonderful comments for this chapter, butI'll try to respond to comments for the next -so be sure to review! Enjoy!

xoxo, nat

* * *

Chapter 11 

Paris stood at the stern of the ship and surveyed the sea before him. His mind constantly replaying the day he left Troy.

_The day was dark and gloomy as the crew and a hundred of the finest soldiers from the Trojan army boarded the ships. Helen begged him to the last moment to reconsider his decision. Her hands grasping his arm, tears flowing freely from her eyes mingling with the kohl that had been so carefully applied that morning, and now marking two dark streams down her cheeks._

_"Please, my lord, please reexamine your purpose! Your voyage would only lead to death!" She dropped her voice. "Paris, your child grows within me! Do not leave me a widow and our child fatherless."_

_Paris felt a rush of happiness course through him at the pleasant surprise. "All the more reason for me to go," he declared. "Helen, my love, don't you understand? How can I stand up and be a man and a father that my child can grow up feeling proud of when I do not fight my own battles."_

_"But this isn't your battle!"_

_Paris shook his head. "This is my battle. It always has been and will plague me forever lest I confront it. My brother should never have fought my battle. He should never have died."_

The captain of the ship approached him and Paris hastily bit back the tears that welled up in his eyes every time he thought of Hector.

"My prince," the captain greeted him courteously.

"How much longer till we reach the shores of Greece?" Paris asked turning to the captain.

"If Aeolus be kind and the winds be favourable, then we should arrive by the next full moon, my prince," the captain replied humbly.

"So long?" Paris asked. "Tell the men to row harder!"

"Yes, Prince Paris."

"And captain?"

"Yes, my prince?"

"When they are not rowing, they shall pray to the gods." Paris returned his gaze to the calming blue of the Aegean Sea that was so opposed to the feelings that he felt in his heart.

"What matter should they appeal to the gods for, Prince?" asked the captain.

"A fair wind, our victory, the return of my cousin, Briseis, and most of all, the death of Achilles!"

-

The glorious splendour of Apollo's golden chariot was disappearing below the horizon to give way to Artemis's pale sheen as Thetis, Achilles and Briseis shared a simple dinner inside the small stone house that they lived. Bread and wine from the market, fresh vegetables from Thetis' garden, and the young doe that Achilles hunted earlier on in the day was roasted to perfection.

Thetis sat and ate and smiled but spoke little. She watched as her son and his wife happily shared the details of their day with one another. She saw the joy in their eyes and knew their secret before they knew it themselves. Thetis heard but was not listening. Her mind was filled with anxiety. She knew she should have expected it, but she had hoped that Achilles' change of heart may change his destiny. Had not stranger things occurred? How much truth lies in the word of a mad prophet?

"Mother," Achilles' voice drew her out of her thoughts, "come walk with me by the sea."

Thetis started, her son's eyes were hard and pensive and she immediately knew that what he requested was far from a casual walk. "Later, Achilles. I must clear the table and wash the dishes."

Briseis smiled at her sweetly. "Mother, allow me to learn what a wife must do. I must learn, else I am afraid that I will never be a good wife. Go enjoy the evening with Achilles."

Thetis agreed reluctantly and parted with her son. Achilles took her hand, and they walked silently together, wading barefoot in the cool water.

Thetis looked at her son, but she could not decipher the look upon his face.

"Achilles," she finally said, exasperated by his muteness, "what troubles you?"

"Mother," he hesitated as if unsure whether he wanted to ask her the question or not.

"Yes, Achilles?"

"Briseis told me that a man approached her in the market today. Who was he?"

Thetis turned away and was silent. She could evade the truth to anyone but her own flesh and blood.

"Mother?" Achilles pressed with urgency, her silence made his mind ill at ease.

"It was Calchus."

"The seer?"

Thetis nodded solemnly.

"But it can't be! Calchus seldom divulges his visions with anyone."

"Just as you have changed much since you parted for Troy, many things have changed since you left. Calchus' wife fell in love with another man and decided to elope with him. Calchus foresaw that the man would drown in a few days, yet he was bitter with envy, and he remained silent about his vision, knowing that if he had voiced the man's fate to his wife, she would try to save her lover. Calchus thought that when the man died, his wife would return to him. A few days later, the man went out to sea and drowned, yet Calchus' wife did not return to him, for she had drowned with her lover. Sometimes, visions are partial. Calchus did not realize that his wife would die with the man as they eloped on a boat. Calchus grew mad after that. He haunts the streets and tells his visions to all who he sees visions for."

Achilles' mind spun wildly. He knew well of Calchus who had foresaw that Troy would not fall, lest Achilles fought. The prophecy had proven true. "Mother, does he speak the truth?"

Thetis sighed. "I cannot say, my son. It has been said that when Calchus grew mad, his visions grew deranged and unreliable."

"You also foresaw this, didn't you, mother? You knew that Briseis would be my downfall. That is what has been on your mind of late, am I not correct?"

"I am not a seer, I do not make prophecies, I have not been to the oracle of late, but yes, you are correct. I am afraid that a woman can change you much. Briseis is a wonderful woman, a kind daughter and a loving wife, but how much are you willing to risk for her? How much is she worth?"

"Everything, mother! Everything! I would give my life for her! I love her with all my heart. I have never felt for anyone the feelings I feel for her. How could you ask me such questions?"

"How could I not, my son? Before Troy, you could easily sacrifice any woman."

"No, mother, I could never sacrifice you."

Thetis smiled solemnly. "Worry not about Calchus, he is but a madman." She quickly continued, wishing to divert his thoughts, "Achilles, did you know that Briseis is carrying your seed?"

Achilles was overjoyed. "No."

"Observe her, my son. Her body changes to bear your fruit. She has bore your child for many months now."

"Why did she not tell me?" Achilles wondered aloud.

"This is her first child. I suspect that she is not aware of this herself. She may think that her body is changing to adapt to this new environment."

They had begun to walk back and Achilles spotted Briseis drawing water from the well. "Briseis!" he yelled as he ran up to her. Startled by his call, Briseis loosen her hold on the rope and the bucket of water that she was drawing up fell back into the well with a hollow splash. Achilles picked her up and spun her.

"What is it, my love?" she asked of his curious behaviour.

He grinned. "We are to have a child." He put a hand on her swelling abdomen. Thetis watched as the lovers came together in a joyous embrace. Achilles drew up the water for Briseis and sat by her as she washed the dinner dishes. Thetis' heart sank. With every passing moment, her son grew more vulnerable.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I really appreciate it because it shows me that I'm not putting these chapters up in vain! I'll try to update more frequently, unfortunately that is something I cannot guarantee. I will also try to write longer chapters in the future, but since this one isn't of great length, and because I've taken so long to update, I have put up two chapters for your perusal. Enjoy and review!

xoxo, nat

* * *

Chapter 12

Argyris, Odysseus' most able captain, had been given a strong army and the order to capture Achilles. Clearly, Odysseus would rather overestimate than underestimate the friend that he is so fond of and now must kill. Argyris was a man in the prime of his life. His brown curls were dark and his grey eyes hard. The son of a farmer, Argyris had joined King Odysseus' army, against his father's wish, as a lowly soldier at the age of sixteen. Argyris was tactile and his skills with the sword was quickly discovered by his superiors, who, amazed at the young boy's talent, quickly promoted him to a more prominent post. In a few short years, Argyris had risen up the military ranks quickly, but he did not do nothing to gain his position. Argyris was a ruthless warrior. No sacrifice was too great for his victory. Men feared to be under Argyris' command. Men were honoured to be under Argyris' command. Argyris was a legend and a phenomenon in his own right.

When Argyris was given the assignment to capture Achilles, instead of trembling with fear as any other man who faced Achilles would, Argyris was overjoyed. Every one of Argyris superior had appealed to Odysseus to allow Argyris to command the Ithacan army with them. Argyris, although young, was war-harden, intelligent and ambitious, they had told Odysseus. But the king would not hear of it. He had someone else in mind for the post, if that someone would accept the post of course - Achilles, who was loyal to no one, whose alliance lay with no country. Argyris had always harboured a deepresentment for this ungrateful vagrant. The gods were on his side now. Finally the time and opportunity had come to eliminate such a hateful figure from his presence and take his rightful place as a commander of the Ithacan contingent. Argyris grinned with delight, ravished the barmaid in his bed, and drank a toast to his future. The hunt begins tomorrow.

-

Paris stood at the stern of the ship with the captain beside him. His dark eyes surveyed the seemingly boundless Aegean Sea. A dark cloud could be seen rolling in from the east, slowly, but certainly swallowing up the beautiful blue day.

"How much longer until we reach Ithaca?" Paris asked, his eyes never straying from the panoramic view before him. The endless stretch of turquoise water was all that he had seen for days. He felt impatient for land, for Ithaca, for Achilles.

"Tomorrow, maybe even today," the captain replied optimistically. He was also eyeing the ominous dark cloud warily. "Hopefully today before that storm begins."

Aside from the captain's concern which Paris understood perfectly and mirrored, he welcomed the oncoming storm. It was all too fitting for his mood. Dark, gloomy, despairing. He still felt like a fraud leading the mighty Trojan army. He felt like an intruder who had encroached his brother's place. He knew his father certainly thought so. 'And perhaps Andromache as well,' Paris wondered. After Hector's death, the dynamic of Paris' relationship with Andromache changed, subtle enough that it wasn't perceived immediately, but drastic enough that it couldn't be ignored. He had noticed the reliance that his sister-in-law had suddenly invested upon him and he in turn felt that it was his duty to protect her and his nephew. 'I have robbed Andromache of her husband and Astyanax of his father. I must do my best to make it up to them.'

Paris's thoughts were interrupted by the excited shouts from the crew. "Land!" they cried in happiness. Trojans were not particularly well-know for their sea-legs and such a long journey aboard a water vessel had them all sick for sturdy ground beneath their feet.

Paris looked up and saw a massive towering cliff before him. Jagged grey rocks sparsely adorned with sickly yellow-green grass. He had never been here before, but somehow by some internal instinct he knew. He had reached the land of his enemy. He had reached his destination. A single word rolled past his lips. "Ithaca."

It began to rain then.

* * *

AN:Pathetic fallacy! The lamest of coincidences. It always makes me laugh.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The hardy shrubs that littered the coarse coast of Ithaca threw deceptively long, lean shadows upon the dry grass. Afoot and leading the horse on which his wife sat, Achilles noted as she shivered from the chilled air of the approaching night. He stripped the cloak off his shoulders and handed it up to her.

"You must keep warm, Briseis, for yourself and our child," he said when she refused. "We shall reach home shortly before the light of day is vanquished."

Briseis smiled softly down at her husband and put a hand to the bulge on her stomach that she now realized to be her child within. "I feel terrible for leaving mother with the preparation of dinner."

"Mother will be fine. Preparing food is something that shetruly enjoys. She really wanted you to visit Hera's temple and pray for a safe delivery. Mother is eager for grandchildren, although she would refuse to admit it. She's never been one to openly express her feelings."

"You and your mother are so much alike."

Achilles smiled fondly at the thought of his mother. "Mother and I have lived by ourselves since my earliest memory."

"What happened to your father?"

Achilles shrugged. "My father is Peleus, prince, now king of Pythia. Mother doesn't talk of him. His name is forbidden in her presence." A drop of rain fell and splattered onto this face. He wiped it away and looked up into the sky. "We must hurry, the low clouds shows the eve of a storm. I have already felt the rain."

"Yes, I too. We must hurry."

Achilles swung himself up onto the horse behind Briseis and spurred the beast to a light canter, fast enough to arrive home earlier, but slow enough as not to hurt his pregnant wife and the load she bore.

As the rain fell harder, Achilles urged the horse faster. He heard a slight gasp from Briseis.

"Perhaps we should fine shelter and wait for the rain to depart."

"No!" Briseis exclaimed, a raspy, airy quality to her voice. "We must hurry home. I have a premonition that mother is not well."

-

A scene of devastation greeted the rain-drenched and tired couple. A crimson sun set slowly, casting its bloody light over the charred remains of Thetis's house. Achilles leapt off the horse and ran inside. The rain had extinguished the fire, but a suffocating grey smoke rose still, stinging his eyes and clogging his breath.

"Mother!" Achilles shouted frantically, inspecting the house for traces of her. "Mother!"

"My son…" a feeble voice could be made out fromunder a portion of collapsed wall. Achilles ran to it and found his mother, her face pale under the black-grey ashes. Her body was trapped under the wall.

"I'll save you, mother," Achilles said. He heaved the wall a fraction only to have it crumble into two parts and fall back on Thetis. She screamed in pain, then groaned. His stinging eyes began to water as he lifted the sections of wall off Thetis and carried her out of the ruins of their home. Her mangled legs lay limply as he carried her out, her breathing was shallow and labour. Gently, he set her to the ground.

"Achilles…"

"Do not speak, mother…"

"Achilles…listen to me…the men who burned our house will return for you…My life is at its end…I can feel…I can feel the Fates fumbling with their scissors upon my thread…"

"Who did this?"

"A man in the garb of a captain in the Ithaca army…A tall, brawny man with…with dark brown hair and hard grey eyes…"

"Agyris," Achilles muttered through clenched teeth.

"Achilles, do not seek revenge…surely, you must now understand how it might feel to be deprived of a father, a husband, a son, a loved one…"

"I have always understood, mother…always."

"Promise me...promise me, as you have promised Briseis...do not seek revenge...live, my son, live a life of peace and tranquillity...choose life...let yourself grow old with your wife and children...if you go into war again...the prophecy...the prophecy will be realized...Go to Pythia and seek your father Peleus...He will protect you and Briseis."

"I do not need my father's protection!"

Thetis smiled up weakly at her son. "If you do not go for your new family's sake, then go for my sake, son...Fulfill an old woman's dying wish…"

"No, mother, do not speak of death…"

"Tell your father that I am sorry for everything," her eyes began to close.

"Mother!"

"Go…"

"I'll take you with us! Mother, we will find someone to help you."

"No, Achilles…go."

A cry from Briseis forced Achilles to turn from his mother. Still on the horse, Briseis slumped over the neck of the beast, an arrow protruding from her chest. Achilles spied the Ithacan legion closing in on them.

"Go!"

Reluctantly, Achilles remounted the horse, held his unconscious wife firmly and galloped away as more arrows began to fly.


End file.
